


Strawberries Aren't Forbidden

by jamgrl



Series: Peaches, Apples, and Other Forbidden Fruit [4]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Companion Piece, Crowley POV, F/F, Fingering, Humans AU, Ineffable Wives | Female Aziraphale/Female Crowley (Good Omens), Oral Sex, Podfic Available, Southern AU, Southern Belles, gratuitous fruit metaphors, yes there's smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:15:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26274733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamgrl/pseuds/jamgrl
Summary: Crowley would never have said it aloud, but... what she really wanted was love. A person. Between breakups and her very confusing relationship with and feelings for her best friend, she kept feeling…. ugh, she didn’t like the word, but… vulnerable. She didn’t expect, after all of the turmoil, to find herself quite so happy.(Crowley POV companion for Peaches, Apples, and Other Forbidden Fruit.)
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Peaches, Apples, and Other Forbidden Fruit [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1643149
Kudos: 27





	Strawberries Aren't Forbidden

**Author's Note:**

> This was beta’d by the wonderful, delightful, shockingly talented [TawnyOwl95](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TawnyOwl95/pseuds/TawnyOwl95). She is an amazing beta and writer, y’all should check out her stuff. If you read anything of hers, please read this [_Emma_ inspired Wives fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26238502) she gifted me. It is a _delight_ and TawnyOwl is a _gift_. (If it wasn’t made exceedingly obvious by Peaches, I really love _Emma_.)
> 
> CW: liberal use of the work “fuck” and it’s iterations (it’s Crowley POV, people!); a lot of angst, but y’all know the end.

#### March 2014 (Senior Year)

**Bus Stop Near Phi Mu House**

**Western Carolina University**

**Cullowhee, North Carolina**

Crowley covered her face in her hands as she waited for Jackson County’s single sorry excuse for a bus to come. Could she have been any stupider? It was bad enough that she had suggested it, but then she had actually _done it_?? She’d nearly blown her cover as the most idiotic lovesick person on the planet. 

She needed to get a hold of herself. This kind of behavior was unsustainable. 

Classic, really. A queer person pining after their straight friend? _Way to find the most stereotypical and obnoxious trope to fill, Crowley._

She fished out her phone and shoved earbuds into her ears, trying to drown out her thoughts with _Strawberry Fields Forever._ Trying to push down the memory of that soft skin and those moans and that breathy voice _saying her name._

Fuckfuckfuck. 

When she got on the bus, she cowered in a window seat in the back corner, curling in on herself and hoping no one could see the redness of her face. 

It wasn’t as if people hadn’t called her name before. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t had a good time with other people. Plenty of people. Why the _fuck_ was she so hung up on this one?

(Because she was an idiot, that was why.)

Why the _fuck_ had Zira called her name? 

There was no way it meant anything. It _couldn’t_ have meant anything. She was just, well, _enjoying it_ , which was good, and Crowley was just being a good friend. That was it. _Don’t get your hopes up, you fucking moron._

_“Cause I’m going to Strawberry Fields..._

_Nothing is real..._

_And nothing to get hung about…”_

She just needed to cool off and get this stupid mistake out of her head. There were plenty of fucking fish, remember?

When she entered her shitty little apartment, she quietly deposited her keys and bag on the little table by the door, hoping that if Dagan was around, she could sneak past her. She needed to be alone. 

Unfortunately, it was a tiny apartment, and Crowley had to pass through the living room to get to her bedroom. The living room in which Dagan was sitting playing xbox. 

“Hey C,” Dagan said without looking up from her game. 

“Hey D,” Crowley said as casually as she could, trying her best to have the least amount of interaction possible before slipping into her room. She already had her hand on the doorknob.

“Ana’s with Newt.”

“Figured.”

“Do you want to split some take-out?”

“Nah, m’not hungry.”

Dagan paused her game. “C’mon, Crowley!” she said, looking up at her. “I need to reach the delivery- woah, are you okay?”

Crowley froze, feeling her flush deepen. 

“M’fine. What do you mean?”

She was about ready to flee into her room and slam the door behind herself.

“You look like shit.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“That’s not what I- I mean-“

“It’s okay. I’m just freaking out about my art history test. And thinking about post graduation and stuff. I’m fine. I just- I need to go study, okay? Maybe keep the volume on your game down?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“I’ll go in on the food with you- just get whatever you want.”

“Okay.”

Crowley slipped into her room, finally, and took a moment to close her eyes and catch her breath. 

Once she made it past this test, she would hit the bars. Find somebody _actually into her._ There were plenty of people like that. _Plenty of fish, plenty of fish._

She kicked off her shoes and flopped onto her bed, lazily reaching for the drawer of her bedside table. Her hand rifled blindly through the drawer’s treasure trove. Which vibrator would it be tonight? Recounting Zira’s voice alone would probably be enough to get her off.

_“Please keep going.”_

Jesus fucking Christ.

#### May 2014 (Graduation Weekend)

The night before graduation, Zira had dinner with her family. Parents, sisters, nieces and nephews, the whole crew. 

Crowley was alone. Sure, Sarge was on his way. He was coming for the ceremony mostly because Crowley’s mom would break out of prison just to murder him if he didn’t. Probably.

Dagan had family in town, too. She had an older brother who was 28 and had a lot of tattoos. Crowley knew his story, she’d known Dagan long enough. He’d dropped out of college and hopped from retail job to retail job. He’d actually liked Blockbuster, worked there until it closed. Now he worked at Bed, Bath and Beyond. Crowley wondered if he would let her use his discount so she could buy some wine glasses or something. She could be convincing when she wanted to be. 

The real money maker for him, though, was the weed. He was a small time dealer, selling to the upper class yo yos of suburban Kansas City. It was lucky for her and Dagan, because it meant they knew exactly what they’d be doing the night before graduation. And why shouldn’t they have taken a little time to relax before the big day, or whatever?

And it would have been good. It would have been just the thing to take the edge off of all the anxiety caused by big events, and family members, and pomp and circumstance. It would have, if Dagan hadn’t left Crowley alone with her brother for 35 minutes while she took his car to pick up the late night pizza they knew they would want. If Crowley and Dagan’s brother hadn’t started without her. If Dagan hadn’t walked in to see her brother’s hand down Crowley’s shorts while Crowley held onto his shoulders, rocking against his fingers and pushing him into the lumpy old couch she shared with Dagan (and occasionally Ana, when she bothered to come home).

Crowley was a tremendous fuck up, was the thing. She came from a long line of fuck ups. So it shouldn’t have been surprising that on the literal last weekend that she was living with her long time college friend, she managed to cross the one line she shouldn’t have.

It wasn’t great, to have one of her best friends irritated with her on graduation day. One of her only friends, really. She didn’t exactly have a boat load of friends. It wasn’t even worth it. Sex was never any good when she was high.

The saving grace was that it was only irritation, and it wasn’t even long lasting, because Dagan blamed her brother more than Crowley. Because she thought Crowley had been _vulnerable_ lately. And maybe that was true, but Crowley really didn’t want to admit it. 

Yeah. She’d been vulnerable. Obviously, there was the thing with Zira, and that had really thrown her off. But it wasn’t just that. 

She missed Bee. She missed having a _person._ She missed feeling _wanted_ . _Loved_ , maybe. 

It had been a real blow, when things with Bee fell apart. Not that it had been anything dramatic. Bee had moved to Chicago. Crowley might have even been willing to go there, too, after graduation. Why not? It would have been an adventure. But Crowley’d still had over a year of school to go, and Bee’d thought long distance wasn’t working. If Crowley could have been honest with herself, she would have had to agree. Maybe it really had just been a physical thing the whole time. Because when that was gone, it was like they didn’t have anything to talk about anymore. 

That was the thing about Zira. Crowley never felt like a fuck up when she was with Zira. She never didn’t have anything to talk about with Zira.

And that was why Zira was exactly the person Crowley wanted to go through the stupid graduation procession with.

Okay, maybe it wasn’t totally stupid. Maybe Crowley was proud of her accomplishments. Maybe she was glad at least Sarge was there to see them.

Either way, Crowley found herself with Zira, in graduation robes, standing in the crowds out on a campus field in the gorgeous May morning. 

Apparently, Crowley was exactly the person Zira wanted to go through the (only somewhat) stupid graduation procession with, too.

Zira had taken the time to meticulously curl her hair, because of course she had. She’d bought a new dress, too, which was completely ridiculous, since it was covered by her graduation robe. Crowley loved that she did, though. She wouldn’t have been her if she hadn’t.

“There’s my family!” Zira exclaimed, grasping Crowley by the arm and shaking her as she waved wildly. 

It was her family alright. They looked eerily like her. There were her parents, a middle aged couple that looked like they were attending a fancy garden party, her two sisters, and some men that were presumably their husbands. One of her sisters looked tired, a toddler on her hip and another child in tow. That one must have been Maribelle. The other looked younger and more athletic. Addie, then.

Zira ran through the throngs of people to retrieve her family members. They were all chatting animatedly as they approached.

“This is your friend?” Crowley heard Zira’s mother say to Zira, when they were within earshot. 

“The jam, Momma!” she beseeched.

Zira’s mom had a large canvas bag, with a pattern meant for a beach vacation, that she rifled through, pulling out a small mason jar full of something red. 

“No! The _big_ one,” Zira whispered.

“This one is Crowley, then?” her mom whispered back.

Zira disbanded from her mother and switched to clinging to Crowley’s arm, beaming up at her. Crowley couldn’t help but blush. (She was always blushing around Zira, Zira just never noticed.)

“Oh, don’t you both just look darlin’ in those robes!” Mrs. Fell exclaimed.

Zira giggled happily. Before Crowley knew what was happening, Zira let go of her arm to make room for her mother, who smothered Crowley with a hug. Crowley’s eyes involuntarily widened in shock.

“Congratulations!” Mrs. Fell said effusively. “Graduatin’ is a real special accomplishment. You should be proud!”

“Thanks,” Crowley replied awkwardly. The rest of the family members hugged Crowley in quick succession, showering her with congratulations and praise, despite never having met her.

It was really weird, being surrounded by all these people showering her and Zira with affection. It was nice.

Seeming to suddenly remember, Mrs. Fell pulled a larger version of the first mason jar out of her bag. “This is my homemade strawberry jam,” she said. “You take this as a graduation present.” 

“Now don’t you let that jam go to waste,” Mr. Fell piped in. “That’s the best jam this side of the Mississippi.”

“Oh _stop,”_ Mrs. Fell chastised her husband, beaming the same way Zira did when she was pretending to rebuke a compliment. That made Crowley smile.

“You must be extra special,” Mrs. Fell added in a stage whisper. “Because I asked Zira for a list of friends to give jam to, and she said _you_ were the most important one. So you get the big jar. But don’t go telling the others!”

Crowley took the jar. She stared at it, dumbfounded. _Most important._

Zira pulled her phone out of her wristlet and shoved it into her mom’s hands. “Can you get a picture of me and Crowley?” she asked.

Before she even heard an answer, she was hugging Crowley’s waist and kicking one foot up, face pressed against Crowley’s side in a huge smile for the camera. Crowley’s whole body filled up with warmth and affection. She wrapped her arm around Zira, while she held the jar of jam in her free hand. She smiled for the camera. 

“Hey, there’s Sarge,” she said to Zira, when she saw him wandering around in his ratty baseball cap and t-shirt, looking confused. “I better go get him before he gets lost.” Zira giggled. Zira always thought Crowley was funny when she wasn’t trying to be.

Crowley caught up to Sarge and dragged him over to the group. He was standoffish with Zira’s family, which was only to be expected, Crowley supposed. But at least he nodded to Mr. Fell. And at least he agreed to hold onto the jam. 

He fumbled with Crowley’s phone to get a few pictures of her. He hugged her and kissed her head, mumbling “good job”. Then, having shown too much vulnerability, he shooed her away, pretending he didn’t care about her graduation.

All the graduates started getting in line to take the traditional route for the walk through campus leading to the basketball stadium, which was filled with chairs out on the court for the graduates to sit in for Commencement.

“Are you ready?” Zira asked, her face lit up with joy. Her joy was contagious. Crowley smiled.

“Yeah.”

Zira held out her hand. 

Naturally, Crowley took it, Because what else was she supposed to do?

They walked hand-in-hand to join the processional line and they held hands all the way to the basketball stadium.

Zira’s hand in hers felt impossibly right. Crowley felt impossibly whole in a way she didn’t know she could feel. Zira’s grip and her fingers clinging onto Crowley’s erased the bad stuff. 

It erased the fact that her mom couldn’t be at her graduation because she was an incarcerated drug addict. It erased the fact that she didn’t have any sane people in her life to help her with adulthood, because it wasn’t as if Sarge or her mom were exactly good examples to follow. It wasn’t as if they were people she could call to get advice on how to get a lease or how to do taxes. How many times had Crowley’s mom been evicted? Crowley suspected Sarge had been evading taxes for at least a decade.

Crowley knew that Zira didn’t have any idea what holding her hand did to her. She knew that Zira didn’t know how much it meant to Crowley to feel so loved. No, it wasn’t the kind of love Crowley wanted, the love Crowley _craved._ But it was there, and she couldn’t ignore it. 

Sometimes, Zira would look at her in a way that gave Crowley a glimmer of hope. But it was wishful thinking, Crowley knew that. And what they had would have to be enough. Because Crowley didn’t want to live in a world where Zira didn’t want to hold her hand. She didn’t want to live in a world where Zira didn’t ask her mother to make her strawberry jam.

#### July 2017

**Near Sweet Peas Hostel**

**Asheville, North Carolina**

Dan had seen something in Crowley. Dan had picked Crowley up when she’d been broken, and he’d seen someone worthy of love. At least, she’d thought. 

She’d thought she’d found it. The thing people talked about. 

They were partners and lovers. They were Bonnie and Clyde, traveling the country like a couple of rogue criminals, except instead of armed bank robberies, their transgressions were insurrectionary art. They were out there challenging the system, dismantling social constructions designed to keep people down.

It was great. For _two fucking years,_ it was great. They had great sex _._ They couldn’t keep their hands off of each other! They made friends everywhere they went. They spent every weekend in smoky hole-in-the-wall bars, and Crowley loved it. They saw places Crowley had never dreamed of (not that she’d dreamed of many places, she’d barely left North Carolina before meeting Dan).

It was like what she’d had with Bee, only better. Dan was the kind of person Crowley was supposed to be with. He was an up and coming rock star and Crowley was his muse.

When Crowley was with Dan, she forgot about Zira. And that was a good thing. Because Zira could love her, sure. And Crowley could love Zira. But Zira would never tear Crowley’s clothes off. Zira would never look at her with lust, would never want to slide her hands across her skin. She would never lift Crowley onto the counter just to get the best angle for fucking.

No. Zira would find some nice Country Club man, with a 401K and a good steady job at his daddy’s business. They would get a nice house with a white picket fence for their 2.5 kids, and they would have neat, missionary sex once a week. Zira would have a slot for it in her planner so they would never forget. ‘It’s Sunday afternoon, Darlin’, you know what that means.’

And if Crowley had stayed in Asheville, she would have been the one throwing the Goddamn engagement party.

No. Dan was the kind of person Crowley was supposed to be with. 

That’s what she’d thought, anyways. Up until he got bored. Up until he stopped tearing off Crowley’s clothes, and he stopped bending her over the passenger seat of his van just to fuck her thouroughly. Up until suddenly other women were becoming more interesting and Dan didn’t want to be tied down.

Of course he didn’t. Crowley wasn’t somebody anybody wanted to settle down with. She was good for a fuck, a slut to have fun with. She wasn’t somebody anybody wanted to take home to their parents. Certainly not somebody anyone would ever want to pick dishware with. 

Was that what she wanted? A yard and a registry at Bed Bath and Beyond? (Well, not Bed Bath and Beyond. She didn’t need graduation flashbacks.)

What she really wanted was someone who wouldn’t leave her. (Why did everyone always leave her? Was there something wrong with her?)

Maybe she went back to Asheville because it was the last place she’d been before she’d gone on the road with Dan. Maybe she went back because she thought if Dan had found her in Asheville, there would be others like him waiting in line. Maybe she went back because she figured Zira was still there.

It wasn’t pretty, the scene outside the hostel. Crowley had shouted and thrown things at his van when she’d gotten out onto the road. She was half drunk and deranged, probably. She was just so _angry._ How could he have made her believe that they had something real?

She took the bottle of moonshine with her, because Dan didn’t appreciate it, anyways. She shared it with Ricky at the hostel- now there was a _real_ mountain man.

She drank too much. She was aware of that. But she wanted to forget. Because she didn’t want to feel the gaping hole Dan had blown through her heart. She didn’t want to believe that broken was all she could ever be.

Zira picked her up later. Zira showed up, looking like an actual angel ( _God_ , she was so _fucking_ beautiful), and she picked her up off of the ground like it was easy.

Crowley didn’t remember much from that afternoon. But for some reason, she woke up the next day having dreamt of strawberries.

#### October 2018

**Duck Donuts**

**Nags Head, North Carolina**

Crowley took Zira to Duck Donuts. She took Zira to Duck Donuts, because they were the best donuts in the world, and somehow, after everything, Crowley still wanted to feed Zira donuts.

That was how Crowley ended up in her current position, watching Zira make love to a strawberry iced cake donut while they sat on the cool beach sand, hearing the ocean lap at the shore.

Crowley loved watching Zira eat. Was that a weird fetish thing? Whatever.

It was the way that Zira ate. Especially when it came to sweets. It was like she was never allowed sweets at home. It was like, now that she had access to them, she wanted to indulge in the sin of it. She wanted to pleasure in the softness of that donut, in the sweetness of it. And she didn’t care (Crowley loved that), she didn’t care if her lips and fingers were covered in strawberry icing.

Crowley could have licked that strawberry icing off of Zira’s fingers, off of her lips. She could have sucked the sugar out of her mouth. And Zira might have even let her. She might have melted into it, she might have grasped Crowley’s hair. She might have moaned and spread her legs. And, fuck, if that wasn’t exactly what Crowley wanted.

But it wasn’t worth it. Because she would just push Crowley away. She would panic and drop her when she was done, fling her away like she was poisonous. 

Crowley wished she didn’t know. She wished she didn’t know what it was like to feel that soft skin, bare under her fingers, to hear Zira’s breathy voice saying that she wanted her. She wished she didn’t know what it was like to fuck each other in the bed they shared and to lay naked, kissing and teasing and feeling in love. 

It was easier when Crowley thought Zira couldn’t want her. It sucked, sure, but at least it was a good reason for them to not be together. At least the fault of Crowley’s pain was only her own. At least she only had herself to blame for ever imagining that their roommate situation was anything more.

She had spent a _year_ playing make believe. She hadn’t thought she was the type of person to want to live a predictable life. To want to stay in every night watching movies. But Zira had proved her wrong. And she’d been happy. Happy making fun of indie films, happy watching Zira eat chocolate. 

But now she knew, and there was no unknowing. There was no giving that knowledge back. It was a no returns, final sale item.

She knew because Zira had used her. Just like everyone else. The one person Crowley thought actually loved her, broken pieces and all, saw her as a toy. 

Crowley felt her anger bubbling in her chest, threatening to come out.

Zira thought she was just someone good for a nice fuck for a little fun. A little confidence boost when she was feeling down. As if it wouldn’t mean anything to Crowley.

How could it! Crowley loved sex, didn’t she? She loved _casual_ sex, right? She wasn’t a settling down person! A real person with a desire to be loved! Sex with Crowley didn’t _count!_

The fact that Zira had shown up to Crowley’s _home,_ on the other fucking side of the state, unannounced, was a insult. _She really expected Crowley to want to be friends with her?_

Crowley closed her eyes. Breathed.

She was still wondering why Zira had come. She was waiting- for an apology, a change of heart. For Zira to say that she was wrong, for her to ask for Crowley to give her a chance. Because why else would she have come? After the way they’d left things?

She was willing to forgive her. She was _actually_ willing to forgive her. She didn’t think she would be, but she was. So she waited.

But Crowley was waiting in vain. She thought Zira was just being shy about it, that she was too embarrassed to broach the subject. She thought if she gave Zira an opening, if she gave her permission, if she let her know that she was still open, then maybe… 

But that apparently wasn’t the reason for Zira’s visit. Apparently, she just wanted to pretend nothing had happened. That they could be friends again.

But they couldn’t. It wasn’t an option. 

Because Crowley knew, she couldn’t unknow, and she couldn’t unwant. She couldn’t unwant Zira’s gasps and moans; she couldn’t unwant Zira’s sugar coated mouth. 

Zira hadn’t come to apologize, and she probably never would. And if Zira never apologized, Crowley could never forgive her. And if Crowley could never forgive her, that was the end of it. There was no point in even thinking about Zira’s strawberry iced lips.

So it was for the best to let it go, once and for all. It was the healthy choice. The vegetable plate instead of the Angels food cake that she would eat too fast and make herself sick with. 

And that was what she did. She let it go, she let _her_ go. She started a sugar free diet, cold turkey.

And it worked. It really worked. For a long time.

#### February 2020

**Zira’s Apartment**

**Asheville, North Carolina**

Crowley found herself in a place she’d thought she’d never find herself again. 

She found herself in an apartment she’d said goodbye to, arms and legs tangled on the couch with soft limbs, feeling that sugar breath on her neck, inhaling that scent of strawberry shampoo. 

Crowley had said never again.

But when something unimaginable happens, when your world crashes around you, when you fall into the deepest pit with no way out, sometimes what you need is a friend. And even after everything, even with how angry Crowley was, even with how broken Zira left her… she also knew that Zira was the person who could make her feel whole again. 

Because Zira was actually really good, when she got her head out of her own ass for a second. And that Zira- the caring one, the one that was Crowley’s friend, the one that was Crowley’s _family-_ when everything was burning, that was the Zira Crowley wanted, the Zira Crowley _needed_ , to climb into the pit with her.

And she did. She didn’t force herself on Crowley- that was key. But when invited, she didn’t hesitate to envelope Crowley in warmth and care.

Crowley didn’t want to think too hard about it. Because feeling Zira’s arms around her, feeling her love wash over her, was addictive. It was like a stream of dopamine injected straight into her brain. And that was scary. Because addiction is a tendency that can be inherited, and Crowley knew she couldn’t let herself succumb.

Was it so wrong, though? Letting herself feel loved? Letting herself be taken care of, protected? At least, for now? Until she was strong enough to stand up on her own?

Maybe, just maybe, this was enough.

(It wasn’t enough.)

#### April 2020

**I-85 S/US 29 S toward Atlanta**

**(On the way to Macon, Georgia)**

Crowley was on her way to Zira’s parents’ house for the first time, and she was nervous. There was a part of her that thought that as soon as they got to Macon, and as soon as Zira saw her parents, she would crack and decide she’d rather pretend this whole thing hadn’t happened.

The _thing_ being their relationship. The one they’d agreed to try, but that Crowley was still teetering on the edge of believing in. She was standing in the sand, letting the sea foam touch her toes, but she refused to run head first into the water just to be pummeled by waves. She’d done that before. (It didn’t matter how calm the surf looked, Crowley knew there could be an undercurrent.)

It wasn’t that she thought she wouldn’t be happy with Zira. She knew that she would be. She knew that she could live in blissful domesticity with Zira and they could fuck every night. She knew that she could wait until after they finished watching an episode of the Great British Baking Show, and then she could roll over onto Zira, reveling in pressing kisses onto every inch of her soft flesh. She could feel Zira’s hands on her, she could hear Zira gasp.

But she was so scared. When would Zira find her Country Club man and move on? How much harder would it be to get over her when she did?

Because, sure, Zira said she wanted a relationship, now. And it was what Crowley wanted, too. More than anything. But how could she trust Zira? 

She’d kissed Zira, before they’d gone on the road. And that had been like a promise. A promise of what they could be, if Zira didn’t run away. And maybe it was a warning, too, of what she would lose if she did. Because Crowley didn’t think she could forgive Zira a second time.

Crowley was taking it slow with her. She needed time to feel comfortable, she needed time to feel trustful.

That’s what she’d thought, anyways, when she was on the open highway, making her way through rural Georgia on the Saturday morning before Easter.

Crowley couldn’t have possibly known how serious Zira was or what she was planning. 

She couldn’t have possibly known that she was ready to show her family her hand, take it or leave it. That she was ready to take the winnings (Crowley) and drive away into the sunset, whether her parents approved or not.

She couldn’t have possibly known that by the end of the day, her mouth would be filled with the sweet taste of fresh strawberries and Zira’s kisses.

When Crowley went to bed that night in Zira’s sister’s old bedroom, she was feeling dazed. She was still shocked that everything was out in the open, that Zira had introduced her to her entire family as her _girlfriend._

Zira’s girlfriend. Crowley liked the sound of that.

Zira 

Today, 10:47PM

_Come to my room._

_I think my parents are finally in bed._

_But be sneaky, just in case!_

|   
---|---  
| 

_What, are we teenagers?_  
  
_We might as well be to my parents._

|   
| 

_What if I like my personal space over here?_  
  
_Crowley!_

🥺🥺🥺

|   
  
  
  


Crowley chuckled at her phone before she pocketed it and snuck across the hall to Zira’s childhood bedroom. 

Zira was in some of her cutesy pajamas, lounging on her bed. “Lock the door,” she whispered. 

Jeez, she was ready, huh?

Crowley smirked as she complied and went to the double bed.

“I take it you want something from me?” she asked. Zira always wanted something.

Zira lifted the covers, wordlessly inviting Crowley to join her. Crowley slipped into bed beside her.

She was trying to keep her cool, come off suave or something. 

The initial giddiness of the afternoon was starting to wear off, gradually being replaced with a renewed anxiety. There was so much that was still uncertain- how could Crowley know if Zira was really in it for the long haul? 

Crowley tried to shake off her fears. This was _good._ At least the air felt clearer, at least this felt like a level playing field, a fresher start. At least this new situation gave Crowley the permission she needed to ravish Zira the way she’d wanted to for months. That was where her focus belonged tonight.

Crowley slipped her arms around Zira and started kissing her neck.

“Mmm,” Zira said. God, Crowley loved her sounds. Yes, this was good.

“What do you want?” Crowley purred.

“I want everything,” Zira breathed.

Crowley chuckled. “Maybe just settle on one thing for now, to get us started,” she said.

Zira opened her eyes and looked at Crowley seriously. “I don’t mean sex.”

Crowley pulled back, confused.

“I mean, yes, I want sex,” Zira ammended. “But I mean… oh, I hope it isn’t too much to say this, but.... Crowley, I want _everything_ with you. I want a yard and a garden…”

Crowley felt a fluttering in her heart. “White picket fence?”

Zira giggled. “Sure.”

“Some nice dishes?”

“Oh, definitely.” Zira paused for a moment, thoughtful. “A wedding,” she added cautiously.

Crowley took a sharp breath.

“I mean…” Zira responded quickly. “I’m not suggestin’… obviously, this is so early, and I don’t want you to feel rushed, or anything like that…”

“Yeah, no, that’s…” Crowley cleared her throat. “I, uh, yeah.” Her face was burning. “I want that too. I mean, like you said, not right now, but. Mmm.” Crowley nodded. “Good.”

Zira smiled, looking at Crowley affectionately before giving her a long and soft kiss. Crowley felt light headed. That wasn’t fair. _She_ was supposed to be the one in control.

When Zira pulled away, she crinkled her eyebrows and sighed heavily, nuzzling her head into Crowley’s chest. “I’m so sorry, Crowley. That I wasted so much time. I’ve been so stupid.”

“Yeah,” Crowley responded.

Zira pulled away and looked at Crowley, her mouth hanging open in delighted offense. 

Crowley smiled, feeling more comfortable. She shrugged. “You said it.”

Zira giggled and pecked Crowley on the lips. 

“It wasn’t a waste of time,” Crowley heard herself say, before the idea was even fully formed in her head.

“What?” Zira asked, innocently confused.

She had to stick to it now. Explain it. She shifted to lay on her back. “All that time. That we lived together, that we spent together in college. I mean, you ripping my heart out sucked.” Zira flinched. 

“I was really selfish,” she whispered.

“Yes,” Crowley agreed. She found herself looking past Zira, at her popcorn ceiling, feeling the heaviness of her own head sinking into Zira’s pillow. “But everything else… that was real. We took care of each other. We loved each other. I mean, _I_ loved _you_ . And _you_ loved _me_... Right?” And there it was. Crowley making herself vulnerable again, instead of accepting the simple request for sex, which was what this invitation to Zira’s room was really about. Her question felt feeble, like a childish hope that her broken kite could take flight.

“Oh, Lord, yes,” Zira breathed. 

Crowley looked into Zira’s eyes. 

Crowley had years of experience reading her. She had a college degree in Zira. And what she saw in those eyes was sincerity and remorse and hope. 

And love. Genuine love. The love Crowley wanted to bathe in. The love Crowley wanted to believe in.

Maybe, just maybe, this was for real.

#### March 2021

**Zira( and Crowley)’s Apartment**

**Asheville, North Carolina**

Zira was curled up cozily on the couch, wrapped in a flannel blanket and focused on her new Kindle. She was the perfect prey. Unsuspecting and ready to be pounced on.

Crowley considered her options. She could soften her up with an offering of cocoa. She could squirm her way onto the couch, hoping Zira let her squeeze next to her. There was always the option of just plopping onto her lap.

Cocoa would have the added bonus of reminding Zira of the mug Crowley had made her with the peach painted on it. 

Pottery was a thing Crowley had been working on more recently. Tourists loved pottery. Luckily, Crowley had finished this piece early, and she’d had it on time for Zira’s birthday.

Sure, it was March, but Zira drank cocoa year round. Crowley was careful not to overheat it- Zira wouldn’t wait and would burn her mouth if Crowley gave her something too hot, like an impatient child. 

“Oh! Thank you, Sweet Pea!” Zira exclaimed when she sat up to accept the cocoa and Crowley joined her on the couch.

“How do you like that Kindle?”

“Oh _Crowley_ , it’s absolutely lovely. I figured out how to connect it to my library card, so the world’s literature is at my fingertips!” she explained, lighting up. “But you really shouldn’t have given me two birthday presents,” Zira added, in a light reprimand.

“Oh, the Kindle wasn’t for you,” Crowley said. Zira looked perplexed and Crowley tried not to laugh at her own personal joke. “It was a present for me on your behalf.”

“Oh? How so?”

Feeling sly, Crowley took the mug of cocoa out of Zira’s hands and gave it a sip.

“Well, first of all, I used _your_ money to buy it.”

“You mean _our_ money?” 

Crowley lost her cool a little bit and took another sip of the cocoa while she thought of a response, hoping her face wasn’t obviously turning red.

“I assume you mean you used the joint account,” Zira continued.

“Well, yeah. But I don’t put any money in there,” was all Crowley could think to say.

“That doesn’t make it any less ours.” Zira reached for the cocoa and Crowley handed it back sheepishly. Zira looked smug. “Go on,” she said.

Crowley huffed. “Well, anyways, I got it so we wouldn’t have to buy any more bookshelves. This place is bookshelf city! Plus, you can put audiobooks on there, so when we go on road trips, I can listen to one of those instead of having to withstand you talking my ear off.”

“Ah,” Zira said, but she was smiling, looking far too happy with herself.

Crowley glared at her and snatched the Kindle from where Zira had placed it on the couch when she took the cocoa.

“What are you reading, anyways?” Crowley asked, waking up the Kindle to see what was there.

“Crowley!” Zira called, reaching to reclaim it, and Crowley knew she’d got something. She scooted to the other side of the couch to skim the page a little.

... _Megan quivered when she felt warm fingers touching her skin…_

Crowley gasped, jumping up to keep away from Zira, who had lunged at her, spilling cocoa on herself and the couch.

“ _Peach!”_ Crowley exclaimed. “Is this _pornography?”_

... _she opened her eyes so she could take in the glory of Leah’s full bosom…_

Crowley let out a yelp. “Is this _sapphic pornography?”_ she practically shouted with glee.

“Crowley, _please_ ,” Zira pouted, as she examined herself and the damage she had done with the cocoa. She started to get up, but Crowley held a hand out. 

“No, no, no,” she said, smiling wide. “Allow me.” 

She ran to the kitchen to grab a few paper towels, Zira calling after her in her passive aggressive PTA mom voice. “I’m not at all burnt, if you care at all!” Crowley hardly heard her.

She returned to an irritated Zira, who stretched a hand out to receive the paper towels. Instead of giving them to her, Crowley began very deliberately patting Zira’s chest dry, to which Zira responded with a huff.

“So this is what you are reading these days, huh?” It was Crowley’s turn to be smug. 

“That’s not _why_ I’m readin’ it,” Zira defended helplessly. “ _All_ the modern romances, these days…”

“What? Are sapphic pornography?”

Zira jutted her bottom lip out.

“You know,” Crowley said, feeling like she’d won the lottery. “I think maybe this shirt is too wet. It might just need to come off.” Crowley crawled onto the couch, straddling Zira and reaching for the bottoms of her worn letter shirt.

“You wily thing,” Zira accused, even as she lifted her arms in compliance.

“Wily?” Crowley asked as she tossed the shirt aside.

“Yes, you’re _ah-“_ Zira started to say, before Crowley successfully distracted her by kissing her neck and blindly finding the clip of her bra. “Temptress,” Zira managed to finish breathily.

“Temptress, huh?” Crowley said, slipping off Zira’s bra so she could _take in_ _the_ _glory of Zira’s full bosom_. (Maybe she was having too much fun.) “Who told you that?” she teased, burying her face in said bosom and showering it with kisses.

“ _Mmm,”_ Zira responded, her eyes closed. “Mikayla,” she breathed. 

That stopped Crowley in her tracks and she pulled back. “Ew! Mikayla! Why are you talking about her?”

Zira giggled. “She told me you were a ‘temptress slut’.”

“Yeah, well she’s a prudish bitch!”

“Yes,” Zira agreed, giggling and reaching for Crowley’s face. Crowley swatted her hand away.

“No, you’ve ruined the mood,” she said petulantly.

“No, Sweet Pea! I’m sorry!” Zira cried, wrapping her arms around Crowley’s torso and trying to pull her towards herself. 

“No,” Crowley said, crossing her arms and holding firm.

“ _Please?”_ She started giving Crowley the pouty puppy eyes. She always had to deploy the puppy eyes!

Crowley huffed, but begrudgingly succumbed and leaned in to kiss Zira, who kissed back hungrily. 

Crowley moved to Zira’s neck again, and she had the nerve to say something else.

_“_ I did scold her,” Zira defended.

“ _Stop talking about Mikayla,_ ” Crowley hissed into Zira’s neck, nipping her earlobe for good measure.

“So sorry, I will, I will.”

“I have half a mind to stop right now,” Crowley threatened.

“No, _please_ ,” Zira begged. Crowley liked it when she begged.

Crowley let Zira squirm, adjusting herself so she was horizontal on the couch, Crowley laying down alongside her, and Zira greedily guided Crowley’s hand between her legs. Crowley could feel the wetness through her leggings. She forgot about Zira’s transgressions.

“Eager,” she whispered, stroking her over the damp material and hearing her whimper. “I like you reading this stuff. Half the work’s already done.”

“Mmm,” was all Zira said.

“You’re ready for me, aren’t you?” 

Crowley slid her hand beneath the fabric of Zira’s panties and leggings to find her sopping. “How long have you been reading this?” Crowley asked in a bit of surprise.

“Oh, hush your mouth!” Zira scolded, lifting her hips and pushing herself against Crowley’s fingers. Crowley huffed a small laugh and obliged her girlfriend, letting her find her pleasure.

It was almost too easy, getting Zira off. And Crowley loved every second of it: seeing her wiggle and squirm, hearing her whimper and moan. There was something extra sexy about her still being partially clothed. And about the fact that she had been getting herself turned on by that smutty book. Crowley congratulated herself for the success of her purchase as she used her middle finger to place gentle pressure against Zira’s clitoris, rubbing in little circles. The rest of her hand rested in Zira’s soft curls, some of which were sticky and wet. She smirked when Zira started thrusting her pelvis rhythmically, eyes closed and mouth open. 

_God_ , Crowley loved seeing her like this. She loved knowing that she was like this for _her_. Sweet, innocent Zira, entirely and utterly debauched. Smart and sassy Zira, unable to form words. It was all Crowley could do not to start touching herself. She couldn’t lose her focus. She occupied her extra hand by grabbing a boob, instead, squeezing and playing with the nipple with her thumb, and watched hungrily as Zira fell apart beneath her.

When Zira melted back into the couch, breathing heavily, Crowley shoved a hand in her own shorts. Zira must have expected something like that, because without even opening her eyes, her hand found Crowley’s wrist and wrapped around it, gently but firmly tugging it away. Her fingers found the front of Crowley’s shorts and started fumbling.

“You should wear a skirt sometimes,” Zira said, as she opened her eyes and focused more attention on the button she was struggling with.

“Why?” Crowley asked, slipping off of the couch and standing so it was easier for Zira to slide her shorts down.

“Easier access, remember…”

Crowley smirked. “Easier access to what?”

Zira gave her a little glare. “You _know_.”

“Yeah. But I want to hear you say it.”

Zira's face flushed scarlet and Crowley smiled wide. She stepped out of her panties herself and waited for Zira’s next move. She was ready for whatever Zira was going to give her, but she also liked to make her work. 

Zira’s hands grasped at her hips, trying to move her. 

“Yes?” Crowley said, not allowing herself to be shifted. Zira made an angry pouting face. “Use your words,” Crowley prompted, because she found it incredibly funny and endearing that Zira was so shy about sex. Seeing her blush and bluster only made Crowley hornier.

Zira let go of Crowley’s hips and glared at her. “I want you up here,” Zira said with a touch of frustration, pointing to her lips. Her pouty, inviting lips. 

Crowley smiled and leaned over Zira, meeting her lips with her own, kissing her purposefully, and even if it wasn’t what Zira was asking for, Crowley knew she wouldn’t be able to help returning it. Crowley slipped onto the couch, letting Zira wrap her up and pull her closer, enjoying when those hands found her naked ass. When she no longer could stand the anticipation, she set aside her teasing and pulled away.

“You _know_ what I meant,” Zira said, panting.

“Yeah,” Crowley admitted, breathless and still smiling. 

She crawled her way into position over Zira’s face, where Zira grabbed hold of her legs and held her down. As much of a prissy little thing she was, Zira was surprisingly strong. Crowley held onto the couch back with one of her hands, and the couch arm with this other and Zira got straight to work.

Crowley was a little bit surprised by the rapid movement of Zira’s tongue _right_ where she wanted it.

When did Zira get so good at this? She’d probably been doing a lot of reading, the little minx. 

The thought of that drove Crowley just a little bit wild. The feeling of Zira’s tongue even more so. _Fuck_ , she was turned on.

Zira let go of one of Crowley’s thighs to shove her hand underneath her shirt and bralette, squeezing hard. For someone who couldn’t say the word “cunt” aloud without blushing furiously, Zira was bold. Crowley liked that.

“ _Fuck_ , Peach, this is really fucking hot,” Crowley managed to say, even as her pleasure started building. Something about having Zira’s hand up her shirt, about being just naked enough for Zira to access her cunt... Crowley didn’t like to admit that she could be made to tremble, but Zira was making her tremble. 

Zira pinched Crowley’s thigh and the hand that had been squeezing her boob moved down. She moved her thumb to Crowley’s clitoris while her mouth kept working at the rest of her labia. And if it was good before, this was better. Crowley dug her nails into the couch as her girlfriend fucked her with her mouth and thumb. God, she loved being fucked. She loved being fucked by Zira.

Of _course_ Crowley always thought Zira was sexy. Of _course_ she loved her, ridiculous as she was. Of _course_ the fact that she had apparently figured out exactly how to make her weak was just icing on the cake. But it was fucking good icing. 

Oh _God._ That just made her think of strawberry icing dripping down lips and fingers. And then she thought about where those lips and fingers were now, dripping in _Crowley._ Feeling that tongue pressing inside her insistently while that thumb kept moving with intent.

Crowley’s orgasm came on all at once, a forceful wave surging through her body without warning, like she’d fallen off a cliff. She hadn’t expected to be quite so completely demolished.

Crowley felt herself panting as Zira peppered her cunt and thighs with soft and wet kisses before letting her slide off of her and slip into her arms so they could cuddle and nap on the couch. 

Yeah, yep, Crowley was really _fucking_ happy.

Zira had explained to Crowley once this whole convoluted metaphor she had about peaches and apples. Something about forbidden fruit and false choices, and the reasons she’d struggled for so long with what she wanted. 

The conversation mostly made Crowley hungry, but she could tell it was important to Zira, so she tried to understand, as they sat close together on their couch on some sunny afternoon.

Zira said she had spent all this time trying to choose between a peach and an apple. She knew she was _supposed_ to want the peach. But she didn’t want the peach. She wanted the apple. She said she had chosen the apple from the beginning. So it wasn’t about choices at all. It was about acceptance. 

Because it wasn’t anything about the apple- the apple was wonderful, perfect, she said. She just hadn’t envisioned herself as an apple person. Maybe there was a part of her that still believed that being an apple person was wrong. The thing was, the more she tried to fight it, the uglier she became. And she hadn’t wanted to be ugly to her wonderful, perfect apple.

When she switched back to English (because she was really stretching the fruit thing, wasn’t she?), she said that looking back, maybe the hardest thing hadn’t been her fear of her family’s reaction. Maybe it had been her fear of her own reaction. Maybe it had been accepting herself. 

_That_ was something Crowley understood. Not about being queer (because Crowley thought that was where she was getting at with the apple thing), but the learning to love your sharp edges thing. God knew Crowley had a lot of those.

“What about strawberries?” Crowley had asked, thinking of the fresh strawberries from Zira’s back yard, thinking of strawberry jam and strawberry shampoo, thinking of _Strawberry Fields Forever._

“What _about_ strawberries?” Zira parroted, clearly not picking up what Crowley was saying. Maybe Crowley didn’t actually know what Zira was talking about, afterall. But she tried again, anyways.

“What if together we are strawberries? Strawberries are sweeter than peaches and apples anyways, right?”

Zira looked at her in consternation for a moment, as if trying to solve an equation in her head. And then she kissed her.

As Crowley lay with her girlfriend on their couch, wet and sticky from sex, cuddling half clothed, she thought about strawberries. She thought that maybe strawberries were her favorite fruit.

**Author's Note:**

> I made a [Spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3m2R8qOCebMwkDQsNRtbDg?si=IW9NNdyJTkqxceWVJ_7tFQ) because I just can't resist.


End file.
